


intricate rituals

by subsequence



Category: GOT7, JJ Project
Genre: Alpha/Alpha, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Bottom Im Jaebum | JB, Bottom Park Jinyoung (GOT7), Fight Sex, Internalized Homophobia, Knotting, Light Angst, M/M, Pining, Porn with Feelings, Rough Sex, Switching, Unhealthy Relationships, idolverse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-27
Updated: 2019-12-27
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:53:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21889096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/subsequence/pseuds/subsequence
Summary: Having two alphas in a pack is a never-ending balancing act along a tightrope of adjustments and allowances.Jaebeom's making it work, though. They're making it work.
Relationships: Im Jaebum | JB/Park Jinyoung
Comments: 34
Kudos: 348
Collections: GOT7 Kink Meme





	intricate rituals

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [GOT7KinkMeme](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/GOT7KinkMeme) collection. 

> written for the got7 kink meme for the prompt "alpha!jaebeom x alpha!jinyoung hate sex." i've always wanted to write alpha/alpha jjp, so thanks for giving me a great excuse, anon!
> 
> thank you very much to [mel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/serendipitee) and [forochel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/forochel) for hand-holding, cheerleading, and betaing!! ♡ also thank you mel specifically for coining the phrase "internalized omegaphobia," which i know i will be using in the future.

Having two alphas in a pack is a never-ending balancing act along a tightrope of adjustments and allowances. 

It was easier when they'd all thought Jinyoung was a beta. Easier than when it had just been the two of them and Jinyoung had been waiting on an omega presentation that never came, and a hell of a lot easier than now as he carves out a space for himself as an alpha in their pack. 

Maybe Jaebeom would've had an easier time handling it if the role of pack Alpha had fit him comfortably in the first place. But it hadn't, not at the start, and the places where the mantle of leader chafed are right where Jinyoung always seems to tread in his own explorations and attempts to define himself. Even before he presented, Jinyoung had a talent for drawing Jaebeom's ire; now, it seems as though Jaebeom's temper is a lit match and Jinyoung's very words dusted with gunpowder. 

Then again, maybe it was a sign of Jinyoung's impending alpha status all along—that knack he has for reaching past the parts of Jaebeom's self that he likes to put on display and drawing out something snapping and growling. Maybe there had been some alpha instinct even before.

He's making it work, though. They're making it work. 

He knows the others were wary of their...coping methods at first. Wary might be too nice of a word for it, considering Mark's immediate response had been, "Of course that's how you repressed fuckers handle it." (Jackson had opted for a more delicate, "You know, relationship therapy doesn't have to be just for married couples.") 

And yeah, maybe it's not the prettiest picture of functionality when he's got his fists balled in the front of Jinyoung's shirt and Jinyoung's defiant face shoved up in his—but now the others groan and roll their eyes, as if the sight of their two alphas about to brawl in the living room is an egregiously unamusing sitcom rerun. 

"Can't you at least have some fucking respect for the people who live with you and clean up after yourself?" Jaebeom snarls. 

"It's literally one pair of socks." Satoori melts Jinyoung's words into a menacing melody. "I think you'll live, _Alpha._" The title drips with sarcastic deference.

"How does everyone feel about Dongdaemun?" Jackson asks the others, not even looking at the pair anymore. "I've been meaning to get some shopping done."

"You see?" Jaebeom jabs an accusatory finger at where three of the others are sitting on the couch, empty boxes from a nearby chicken joint scattered across the table in front of them. "_Your_ mess is making it impossible for your housemates to even stay here—"

"Please." Jinyoung snorts. The disrespect has a growl rumbling in the back of Jaebeom's throat. "That has more to do with you being a control freak than _one_ fucking pair of _socks._ Isn't that right?" he addresses the others. 

"Oh, no," Mark says flatly. "Don't involve us in your weird-ass foreplay, thanks." He turns to Jackson. "Dongdaemun sounds good to me."

"Anywhere's better than here," Youngjae adds. "This is dumber than the mat fight. Should I go get Yugyeom and Bambam?"

"Yeah," Jackson replies. “Tell Bam he better not take his sweet time or I'm leaving him here to find out what Jaebeom hyung's sex noises sound like."

"They're embarrassing," Jinyoung informs them as Youngjae scurries toward the kids' room. "Just so you know." 

Before Jaebeom can fire back, Mark says, "Trust me, we know too well." 

Jinyoung barks out a laugh that Jaebeom would find endearing if it weren't at his expense. As it is, he tightens his grip on Jinyoung's shirt and drags him in closer. "Oh, you want to laugh? You think you're fucking funny?" 

"I was laughing at Mark, actually," Jinyoung replies, smug as anything, and it turns Jaebeom's vision red. "But yeah, I think I'm funny too." 

Jaebeom doesn't bother with words anymore, drawing his lips back in a snarl. Jinyoung bares his teeth right back, only barely keeping up the pretense of a self-satisfied grin. 

"Hey, we're ready to—oh, Jesus." Youngjae pulls up short in the doorway to the living room and Yugyeom and Bambam nearly barrel into him. "Please just—I'll get my shoes on."

Bambam blinks blearily, Yugyeom practically carrying his weight on one shoulder. "Why couldn't I have just slept through this one?" 

"You know you can't," Mark says as he stands and heads for the door. Jackson follows suit. "It's not an opt-in experience." 

"And it’s 4D if your bed shares a wall with them," Jackson adds. "Last one out pays for snacks."

Magic words spoken, the room clears out instantly, the bustle of boys clamoring for the door giving way to the thick silence between the two of them. If he weren’t so preoccupied, Jaebeom might make a note of how quickly the boys move with the incentive Jackson offered and file it away for later; as it is, his mind is buzzing with tension that makes it impossible to focus on anything but the alpha before him.

“Are you happy now?” Jinyoung’s voice is cutting. “Got enough of a response to your tantrum to soothe your ego?”

“It’s not about my ego and you damn well know it.” With the others gone, Jaebeom lets himself press even closer, their stances slotting together until there’s only a breath between their angled faces, between the lean lengths of their bodies. “It’s about _you._”

“And what about me?” Jinyoung challenges. “Can't keep control anymore when you aren’t the only alpha around?”

And that—that’s too much, too far, too raw. Jaebeom snarls and shoves at Jinyoung, sending him staggering back.

Jinyoung smirks. “You can’t even argue with it.”

And he’s right. It makes Jaebeom’s blood boil and his jaw clench, but he can’t think of a proper retort until Jinyoung’s scoffed and set off down the hallway toward the bedrooms.

It takes the click of Jinyoung’s door closing to spur Jaebeom into action. He stalks down the hall and yanks open the door on an unimpressed, unsurprised Jinyoung, standing there as if he’d been waiting for him. Knowing Jinyoung, he probably was. Smug bastard.

“You have no idea,” Jaebeom growls, slamming the door behind him. “You—god, you present late and get to be a pampered brat and know _nothing_ about what it takes to lead a pack and then—then you won’t stop running your damn _mouth—_”

“And what are you gonna do about it?” Jinyoung takes a step closer and Jaebeom’s hands curl into fists at his sides. “You can’t push me around like when you thought I was just an easy little beta—”

“You were always difficult,” Jaebeom grits out. “And just watch me.”

“Watch you wh—” Jinyoung can’t finish his question before the breath is being knocked out of him, Jaebeom’s bulk bullying into his space.

This is nothing new—the collision of their bodies, their hands grabbing with as much familiarity as anger. This is just another relic from the time before Jinyoung presented, another symptom before the diagnosis.

Jinyoung is stronger now, though. Gone is the wiry strength, replaced by something decidedly more solid for Jaebeom to grapple with. But the way he fights—it’s not the same, which is really the same in the grand scheme of things. How he twists in Jaebeom’s grip in exactly the opposite way he expects, how his fingers find new blind spots to dig into until Jaebeom is grunting out curses of pain, how Jaebeom has to exert every last reserve of his strength to keep hold of him despite his size advantage: it’s all so fucking _Jinyoung_ that it only ignites a fresh wave of anger that roars through his veins.

He surges forward until Jinyoung’s back hits the door so hard it rattles in its frame. Still, Jinyoung’s grip on his hair doesn’t loosen one bit. Jaebeom’s eyes water and he curses for the millionth time since he joined this company that Jinyoung grew up with sisters.

He shoves Jinyoung back into the door again to no avail, putting the weight of his whole body behind it until they’re pressed together tightly, tighter than in the living room under watchful eyes.

Here, in a corner of Jinyoung’s dim room hardly touched by the lamp in the corner, Jaebeom loses track of where his own body thrumming with adrenaline ends, slots their hips together like puzzle pieces that won’t fit without force, and shoves his mouth against Jinyoung’s.

Jinyoung is panting with effort, his mouth already open for the taking. Jaebeom devours him.

Or, at least, he tries to.

Even pinned back against the door, Jinyoung kisses back like it’s just one more point of contact in their fight. It’s wet and desperate, the sloppy sounds of their mouths mingling with muffled groans and gasps for air.

Jaebeom tears his lips from Jinyoung’s, mouthing down his chin and jaw until he reaches his neck. The pretty, unblemished skin beneath his tongue makes his mouth water, and his hips jerk forward instinctively.

Above him, Jinyoung lets out a sound between a gasp and a laugh. “Hard already?” he teases, like Jaebeom’s teeth aren’t a breath away from his throat. “What’s next, Alpha? Coming in your pants like a pup?”

Jaebeom growls deep in his throat, buries his face in Jinyoung’s neck, and opens his mouth, ready to sink his teeth into the tender skin and show Jinyoung how an Alpha asserts his authority—

But of course, _of course,_ Jinyoung is expecting it. Hell, he’s probably been saving that barb to get under Jaebeom’s skin for god knows how long, collecting words like weapons for the next battle in an endless war.

So when Jaebeom goes to deliver the kind of bite that would make Jinyoung go limp and pliant in his arms, Jinyoung takes advantage of the awkward, unbalanced posture and slips out of his grip.

It’s impossible to understand while it’s happening. One second, his arms are full of bratty alpha; the next, a hand is twisting his forearm behind the small of his back, his face is pressed into the door where Jinyoung’s head had been moments ago, and Jinyoung’s grip on his hair is tighter than ever.

“What the—_fuck—_” Jaebeom rasps.

Jinyoung leans in, his front burning all along Jaebeom’s back and his breath humid against Jaebeom’s ear. He licks the shell of it, the feeling all hot and wet and tingling down Jaebeom’s spine.

“I’d say I won fair and square, wouldn’t you?” Jinyoung purrs.

“Fuck you,” Jaebeom snarls, but it’s weak. They’ve played this game too many times, established the rules. He knows when he’s lost.

He also knows when Jinyoung is toying with him.

He squirms in Jinyoung’s grip and only succeeds in making his arm light up with burning pain. The hot, wet brand of Jinyoung’s mouth scalds down the side of his neck, across his nape, down to the knob at the top of his spine.

“The fuck are you playing at?” Jaebeom snaps.

“Just savoring my victory.”

The nonchalance in Jinyoung’s tone renews Jaebeom’s struggles, pain and futility be damned. “You haven’t won yet.”

Jinyoung scoffs, the shame of it burning Jaebeom’s skin where he can feel his breath. “You know I have. I’m just taking my time because—well, you’re amusing like this.”

“‘Amusing,’” Jaebeom parrots back. The mocking effect is ruined by how strained his voice sounds.

“Yeah.” Jinyoung presses Jaebeom into the door more firmly until the breath is crushed out of him. “Aren’t you having fun, Jaebeom-ah?”

“What part of this seems fucking fun to you?” Jaebeom keeps his voice as gruff as he can. It’s difficult when he feels so breathless—from being pushed into the door, from indignant rage, from some other emotion entirely.

From the nudge of a hard cock against his ass.

“Oh, I don’t know.” The hand Jinyoung had been pressing into the small of his back wraps around his front. His palm is warm through Jaebeom’s shirt as it smooths down, down, down, until he’s cupping him. “Maybe this part?”

Jaebeom’s breath sticks in his throat. There’s a moan caught there, the pleasure of pressure and friction as Jinyoung grips him through his sweatpants battling with the need to come out on top.

But he’s saved from having to string words together by Jinyoung’s mouth moving purposefully over his nape. He scrabbles at the door with blunt fingertips as the now-familiar sensations wash over him—the wet sweep of Jinyoung’s tongue over his skin, the dull pressure of his teeth finding their mark, and the bite that grows from an insistent press to a starburst of pain. It sends heat skittering out through Jaebeom’s whole body and makes him melt between Jinyoung and the door.

Jinyoung laps at the mark he’s left—a glimmer of that nurturing boy who lives outside these moments. “Happy now?” he murmurs into Jaebeom’s skin.

Jaebeom pushes a weak excuse for a growl out of his throat, but he knows their rules. Even without the fight in him subdued by the teeth on his neck, some deeply animal instinct calling back to a wilder sort of pack hierarchy, this is the boundary they’d drawn the first time the clashing of their bodies had started to include teeth and more.

Still, it wouldn’t be him, wouldn’t be _them,_ if he didn’t wriggle and curse as Jinyoung manhandles him over and onto the bed.

“You’re just begging me to bite you again,” Jinyoung warns him.

He shoves Jaebeom’s face into the sheets. His blankets are already kicked halfway off the foot of the bed with no sign of an attempt to make it—because of course they are—but Jaebeom only has a moment to feel a flash of irritation before his attention is grabbed by Jinyoung’s weight settling atop his back.

“If you keep acting like this, I’m gonna think that’s why you picked a fight in the first place.” Jinyoung’s lips brush over the inflamed ring his teeth left on Jaebeom’s nape. “Big pack Alpha just wants another alpha on top of him, just wants a knot inside—”

“I _want_ you to shut the fuck up,” Jaebeom hisses, squirming beneath Jinyoung’s weight. He only just holds back an embarrassing gasp as Jinyoung uses his entire body to press Jaebeom further into the bed.

“All action today, huh?” He can hear the smirk in Jinyoung’s voice, can feel the smugness when he nips at his neck again. “I guess I can be nice, then.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to—”

But Jaebeom gets his answer when Jinyoung sits up, settles on the backs of Jaebeom’s thighs, and yanks his sweatpants down. There’s only so far they can go with Jinyoung in the way, so he leaves them bunched up just below the curve of Jaebeom’s ass.

The position makes Jaebeom choke out a groan of shame, but his cock twitches hard against the mattress.

He feels Jinyoung pull one cheek aside and hears an appraising noise. But, true to his word, he leaps straight into action, spitting onto Jaebeom’s hole without warning.

The sensation is filthy, hot and wet as it drips down Jaebeom’s taint. It sends a shiver, deep and impossible to hide, running through his body.

“See?” Jinyoung smears his spit across Jaebeom’s rim with the wide flat of his thumb. “I’m being nice.”

Any retort Jaebeom can think of flies out of his mind when the tip of Jinyoung’s thumb finds his center and begins to push in.

“I think you like it, really,” Jinyoung taunts as Jaebeom’s spit-slick rim stretches around his finger. “You like my mess—at least when it’s on you. Or in you.”

“You’re disgusting,” Jaebeom grunts, but his eyes flutter shut as Jinyoung starts to slowly thrust his thumb in and out. A teasing brat to the end.

“If I’m disgusting”—he pauses to spit again on Jaebeom’s hole, the sounds of his thumb fucking into him going wet and obscene—“then what does that make you for getting off on it?”

“I’m not—” Jaebeom begins to protest.

He finds himself bereft, rim clenching around nothing and thighs cold where warm pressure had been bearing down on them—and then he’s dizzy, disoriented, turned onto his back and fully stripped of his sweatpants and boxers as an alpha bullies his way between his thighs.

“You’re not getting off on it?” Jinyoung drags a lazy fingertip up the underside of Jaebeom’s length, throbbing dark red against his abdomen.

Jaebeom glares. His cock jerks as if it’s begging Jinyoung to take it properly in his hand. “Fuck you.”

Jinyoung tuts disapprovingly. “But that’s not how this goes.” He leans over, pulls open the drawer to his nightstand, and takes out a familiar bottle. He waves it teasingly in Jaebeom’s face. “Isn’t that right, Jaebeom-ah?”

Jaebeom turns his head and doesn’t answer.

He hears Jinyoung snort, but resolutely ignores him despite the indignation that rears its head at the sound.

He can’t ignore it, though, when cool lube drizzles directly onto his cock, drawing a hiss from him as his knees try to come up. His eyes snap to Jinyoung, only to find him already staring hungrily back.

Jinyoung’s free hand falls to Jaebeom’s thigh, pinning it in place and carving stinging crescents in the soft skin. Lube falls in long, sticky drops from the bottle he’s holding over Jaebeom, dripping onto his shaft, down his balls, between his cheeks as Jinyoung moves it around. Jaebeom’s always preferred something thicker, more like a jelly, but Jinyoung likes it like this—likes to get Jaebeom all wet and messy, almost like he’s an omega.

Finally, Jinyoung stops. The next bit of lube he squeezes out lands on his fingers before he clicks the cap closed and sets the bottle next to him on the mattress. His eyes are hot and dark as his gaze drags down Jaebeom’s front, drinking in the sight of the glistening mess between his legs.

“Pretty.” His voice is thick and deep, rough with arousal.

And Jaebeom knows—alphas aren’t supposed to be _pretty._

But alphas aren’t supposed to be on their backs for other alphas, aren’t supposed to be intimately acquainted with the stretch of a knot inside. So his growl back is half-hearted, so much so that Jinyoung doesn’t deign to respond.

Instead, he reaches for Jaebeom’s cock and lays his hand flat against the length of it. It twitches and Jaebeom grits his teeth. Sure, they’re both hard, but he’s the one bare and on display, and Jinyoung’s the one eyeing him up like he’s deciding where to take his first bite—or second, rather.

“Are you just gonna stare?” Jaebeom snaps.

Jinyoung grins. “Since it bothers you so much, yeah, maybe.”

Cheeks burning at being read so effortlessly, Jaebeom tries to close his thighs.

It’s impossible, of course, with Jinyoung between them. The hand pressed against Jaebeom’s length wraps around it like a vise at the same time Jinyoung’s free hand grips his inner thigh with bruising force. Despite how slick everything is with lube and sweat, Jinyoung’s hold is strong enough to make Jaebeom gulp involuntarily. His eyes water and his cock jerks helplessly in Jinyoung’s hand.

“You really want it that bad?” Jinyoung asks mockingly. “You know, we don’t always have to play these games.” His hold on Jaebeom’s cock eases in favor of trailing wet fingertips down the underside, soft and slick enough that it makes Jaebeom think longingly of his tongue. “You can just ask for my knot if you need it so bad.”

And for some reason—hearing those words from Jinyoung’s lips, spoken aloud, is more terrifying than the memory of every time he’s been on top of Jaebeom, been inside him.

Jaebeom snarls, “I don’t need a _damn_ thing.”

The teasing grin slides off Jinyoung’s face and his lips press into a line. Without a word, his fingers dip further down, between Jaebeom’s cheeks, until he can feel the wet glide of them against his rim. “Don’t you?”

Jaebeom’s thighs clench. “I need you to hurry the fuck up,” he says gruffly. He looks steadfastly at the ceiling instead of Jinyoung’s face. “I have other shit I was planning to do tonight other than listening to you gloat and—_fuck!_”

Jinyoung lazily draws back the finger he just pushed into Jaebeom before thrusting in again. He isn’t smiling, but there’s something viciously satisfied in the glint of his eyes.

Jaebeom clenches his jaw to keep from saying anything—he doesn’t want to give away more to Jinyoung than he already has, than he knows he’s about to.

Jinyoung’s movements slow and then pause. “You okay?”

Jaebeom grunts. “You think one of your fingers is gonna break me or something?”

There’s a beat of silence and then a sharp little exhale. “Would it kill you to just say yes?”

Jaebeom looks him in the eye. “Yes.”

“Christ.” Jinyoung leans over him and Jaebeom’s heart races, god only knows why, but all he does is curl his finger inside and tear a groan from Jaebeom’s throat when it brushes against something sensitive. “You good for another?”

The question makes heat flush through Jaebeom. Shame, obviously—what else could it be? Or maybe his temper spilling out around where sex usually tamps it down. “Just—do it. Can’t you tell by now? You need the Alpha to walk you through all of it again?”

He misses whatever expression Jinyoung makes, preoccupied with throwing his head back against the pillows as a second finger works its way into him. One had been nothing, really—the awareness of something inside, the barest friction against his walls. Now, though, there's a stretch to each thrust, sizzling up Jaebeom’s spine and making his cock jump where it lies fat and heavy on his abdomen.

“I can tell.” Jinyoung is closer now than ever, practically lying on Jaebeom with just enough space between them to easily fuck him with his fingers. “But I’m not you, Jaebeom. I don’t just rush into things.”

Jaebeom reaches down and gropes blindly at the front of Jinyoung’s pajama pants until he finds what he’s searching for. “Don’t act all high and mighty with me,” he growls. He squeezes Jinyoung’s cock, savors the way it makes his hips kick, notes how the flannel sticks damply to the head. “You and me—we’re the same.”

Jinyoung laughs roughly and spears a third finger inside in retribution. Jaebeom only tightens his grip, even as he arches up off the mattress and shudders. They lie there, panting in each other’s face, all twisted up in pleasure lined with pain.

“Isn’t—” Jinyoung’s out of breath, but his strokes are merciless as he spreads Jaebeom open. “Isn’t that the whole problem?”

The air rushes out of Jaebeom’s lungs. He tells himself it’s because, despite the teasing, Jinyoung really does have clever fingers and know how to use them—pushing deep and curling with each stroke like he’s beckoning, coaxing Jaebeom toward a cliff ledge.

“Do you ever stop talking?” Jaebeom asks abruptly. The rudeness of the question—Jaebeom’s oldest security blanket—falls flat when his voice cracks.

“Well.” Jinyoung’s voice is smaller, softer than it should be considering their position. “One of us has to.”

“No.” Jaebeom lets go of Jinyoung to throw a forearm over his eyes instead. “We don’t.”

He thinks for a moment that Jinyoung’s going to push further—because what else does Jinyoung do but push him, his buttons, his boundaries, his fucking sanity to its limits—but he goes silent.

This is more Jaebeom’s language, anyway. Sweat-slick bodies, wordless moans, the delicious kind of pain that makes him feel like he actually exists in some tangible way. He doesn’t want to talk—but if he did, this is how he would do it.

He squeezes his thighs around Jinyoung’s waist. The longer he takes, the more that animalistic edge recedes in Jaebeom’s mind. The less they feel like creatures clawing their way into each other on instinct. The further Jaebeom’s reasons slip away.

And as much as he prefers words, Jinyoung, to his credit, understands.

The fourth finger aches in a way that nothing else Jaebeom knows can compare to—well, except—

With words off the table, Jinyoung keeps his mouth busy elsewhere. He bites at Jaebeom’s neck, down his chest. They’re lighter than the smarting mark on the back of his neck, small stinging bursts that mingle with the relentless burning pleasure of Jinyoung fucking him open.

It’s so easy now, he thinks hazily, thoughts gone thick and slow. A kind of strength, really. Not that anyone else would think of it that way, of course. But it’s a guilty little kindness Jaebeom spares himself now, in the safety of the silence left in the wake of Jinyoung’s touch.

Jinyoung can’t help some words, still. There are some silences he isn’t willing to leave alone.

“You ready?” He snorts when Jaebeom glares up at him. “Right. Of course.”

The lube he strokes down his length is excessive, if you ask Jaebeom. It makes a mess as he makes his way between Jaebeom’s legs—a tacky handprint on his thigh, slick dripping down between his cheeks onto the sheets.

“Ha—_aaanh—_”Jaebeom can’t help the way his voice pitches up and rings out when Jinyoung pushes in. He’s not really made for this, not like an omega. He’s not built to take _anything,_ let alone the girth of another alpha.

But take it he does, on a long, slick slide that has Jinyoung groaning into his neck. “_Fuck,_ that’s good.”

Jaebeom bites his lip before he can agree. “You gonna pop your knot in five minutes as usual?” His voice is breathy, but he manages a half-sneering tone.

It’s enough to have Jinyoung drawing back to look down at him with eyes ablaze. “You really can’t—” he starts, but he cuts himself off with a mirthless little laugh, baring his teeth. He leans back down again until their noses brush, and his breath washes hotly over Jaebeom when he hisses, “You’re the one who’s taking my knot anyway, aren’t you?”

Jaebeom’s going to snap back something clever, he _is_—but then Jinyoung’s drawing his hips back only to sink into him again, and words are the last thing on Jaebeom’s mind.

Jinyoung is wrong. Jaebeom doesn’t _need_ this—but he doesn’t hate it either. Of course, it’s easier when he’s the one fucking Jinyoung, _better_ that way, because he’s an alpha and that’s what he’s made to do.

But god, if Jinyoung’s cock splitting him open doesn’t feel _some_ kind of good.

It feels even better when Jinyoung picks up a rhythm, filling him over and over with steady rolls of his hips. Jaebeom has wondered before if he’d be willing to do this with someone who didn’t have Jinyoung’s background in dance, someone who didn’t know how to move their body just _so_ to make Jaebeom’s toes curl.

But that way lies madness, other questions tripping in uninvited—would he do this with someone other than Jinyoung at all, why not, why him, why _always_ him—

It’s easiest to lose himself. If he loses himself, loses _Jaebeom,_ then he can lose Jinyoung too, and it’s simpler then—heat and friction and instinct, not anything he can be held accountable for. You don’t blame animals for their little monstrosities, so at least Jaebeom can afford this, once he sheds his self. If he breaks it down to something animal, then...it’s just easier.

He nuzzles into Jinyoung’s neck, laps at the muscular juncture of his neck and shoulder, lets the heady musk of another alpha wash over him.

“Fuck,” he gasps, because of course he does. “Jinyoung,” he whimpers, and that’s...when he mewls “more” in a voice that doesn’t feel like his own, well—at that point, he’s freed from thinking. Blissfully, thankfully so.

When Jaebeom lets go, it’s all a rush, anyway. The thrill of the fight melts into—something else once Jinyoung is pressing him into the mattress and filling him until there isn’t space in him left for breath, let alone thought.

The sounds Jinyoung makes are coming from deep in his chest, punched out and guttural. He’s snarling, growling, knees sliding against the sheets as he tries to shove deeper into Jaebeom. It hasn’t been long, but with each frantic thrust, Jaebeom can already feel the swell of Jinoung’s knot nudging against his rim and promising a stretch that will burn through his entire being.

“You feel—so good—” Jinyoung whimpers, sounding like a pup even as his hips pound brutally into Jaebeom with sweat-slick slaps. The praise slips down into Jaebeom’s gut, liquid hot. “I need—”

There’s no reason, really for how Jaebeom’s thighs squeeze tighter where they’re notched around Jinyoung’s waist, no reason for how he presses them even closer so Jinyoung can hardly pull out to thrust. It’s beyond reason, but it’s beyond animal, too. There isn’t anything alpha about how he clutches at Jinyoung’s back, how he arches like an invitation, how he lets a broken “please” fall from his lips—stripped down, laid bare, filled until he feels almost whole for once—

Every time, Jinyoung’s knot feels like a revelation. Like it can’t be properly captured in Jaebeom’s memory, at least, not like this—Jinyoung’s breath hot and humid against his neck, his grip on Jaebeom’s hips grounding and firm, the thick pressure spreading Jaebeom wide mounting and mounting until it’s all he can perceive, all he can process.

A keen tears free from Jaebeom’s throat. The sound is desperate and thin, as stretched as Jaebeom feels.The edges of the word are soft but unmistakable as he mewls, “Jinyoung—”

Jinyoung grinds deeper, jerky and uncontrolled. His knot feels inescapable as it fills Jaebeom up and presses mercilessly until his vision blurs with unshed tears.

He can feel each pulse when Jinyoung comes, can hear the harsh panting moans sticking in Jinyoung’s throat when he buries his face in Jaebeom’s neck and pumps him full.

Jinyoung’s arms tremble and the tension rushes out of his body. He falls slack atop Jaebeom, probably suffocating at any other time, but Jaebeom can’t register anything but heavy warmth and slick skin. Hot gusts brush against Jaebeom’s ear as Jinyoung tries to catch his breath.

Even with the rest of his body gone boneless, his hips continue to twitch and rock unevenly. Jaebeom can feel every inch of him buried deep inside, all so impossibly wet that he wonders if Jinyoung’s cock would slip out if it weren’t for his knot throbbing against Jaebeom’s walls.

He can hear Jinyoung’s breathing pick up again, staccato gasps mirroring the sharper jerks of his hips, and he braces himself for what he knows is coming—

And sure enough, Jinyoung shudders his way through a second orgasm. It’s less intense than the first—Jaebeom knows from experience—but the rush of wet heat filling him combined with the shivering sigh Jinyoung presses into his neck make him squeeze involuntarily around the thickness inside him.

Jaebeom doesn’t quite come, but it’s a near thing. It’s more due to stubbornness than anything else. He _doesn’t_ need this, no matter what Jinyoung says when he’s trying to release the pressure that builds up between them. He doesn’t need another alpha, doesn’t need a knot, doesn’t need _him—_

"Hyung," Jinyoung whimpers, voice cracking. He nuzzles into Jaebeom's neck, snuffling and sighing. His mouth hangs open and wet against Jaebeom's skin, a vague ground as his mind dissolves into staticky fog. 

He doesn't know why being knotted keeps him teetering on the edge, but it does. It must be the heat, the closeness, the pressure of Jinyoung's abdomen against his cock—it must be _something_ that makes his body seize up and clench tight every time Jinyoung pulses inside him again, _thisclose_ to being too much to deny—

With one final, airy moan, Jinyoung slips out of him. His knot has softened enough not to hurt as he pulls out, but Jaebeom’s thighs still instinctively tighten around his hips.

He feels open and raw and empty—some perverse kind of joke considering he's so full of Jinyoung's come that it's already dripping out of him to dirty the sheets. He clenches, but it only makes him more aware of the fact that Jinyoung isn't inside him anymore, lowering himself onto the bed beside him with a tired little _oof_ that's too cute for someone who's just...done what he's done. He looks almost innocent, all cherubic—lying there with his eyes half-shut as if asleep, cheek smushed into the pillow, and a dusting of pink across every inch of his skin.

Without thinking, Jaebeom turns on his side and reaches out.

Jinyoung's skin is burning velvet beneath his fingertips when they land on his shoulder. Jaebeom freezes as Jinyoung's eyes fly open, gaze pinning him as surely as his weight and grabbing hands had before. He presses his lips together, wets them with a nervous tongue even though they don't need it. They're red and slick and swollen, and Jaebeom wants—he _wants—_

"Hyung," Jinyoung whispers. His eyes are wide and his voice is small enough to barely fill the breath between them, and Jaebeom's hand grips his shoulder tightly. The single word feels like a question, but Jaebeom doesn't know how to begin answering it. With his mouth? Whispering right against Jinyoung's, suckling at his candy apple lips, nipping and biting and marking the way he's supposed to with someone, _anyone_ else?

When Jinyoung says _hyung?_ again, Jaebeom realizes he's staring, his own lips parted to mirror Jinyoung's.

"Would you...?" Jinyoung's clearly asking a question now, but Jaebeom will be damned if he knows what it means for either of them. His mind is humming, something pent-up there pressing against the confines of his thoughts, every line he's drawn, every painstaking demarcation.

Jaebeom sways closer. It's only when he can feel Jinyoung's sharp, nervous exhale against his lips that he realizes the mistake he's about to make.

He takes one last look at Jinyoung's pleading eyes and waiting mouth. Then, he tears his gaze away, throws his leg over Jinyoung's hips, and grabs hold of his wrists.

He yanks Jinyoung's hands up over his head and presses them into the pillow. "Don't," he warns.

Jinyoung's letting out muffled gasps into the pillow, but he doesn't bother trying to respond. He knows the rules, knows how it's supposed to be afterward, knows how long it had taken for Jaebeom to piece himself back together the last time they'd made a mistake like that.

Even now, Jaebeom can feel his foundation shaking. He presses Jinyoung more firmly into the mattress, lowers his mouth to the nape of his neck, and sinks his teeth into the delicate skin with a snarl.

Jinyoung jerks and then goes limp beneath him. It should be satisfying—no, it _is._ Jaebeom fights down the urge to lap at the mark. He doesn't owe Jinyoung an apology, he's his _Alpha,_ for fuck's sake.

And he knows Jinyoung is happy to give this. He knows how Jinyoung loves the shivering, wrung-out pleasure that follows an orgasm, and it only becomes more obvious when he simply moans and tilts his ass up and back so Jaebeom's cock slides against his plush cheeks.

Jaebeom's never understood how emotions can smear into each other so easily—the arousal making his ears ring now feels almost like his earlier rage, the heat unfurling in his gut almost fluttering and light in some way, all his insides tangled up and knotted like his thoughts.

He shoves it all aside and sets to leaving his mark on Jinyoung. Between muscular shoulders, down the dip of his spine, Jaebeom sucks harsh not-quite-kisses, pink bursting into broken crimson. Every time his mouth leaves Jinyoung's skin with a wet smack, a broken whine has him diving back in for more.

This—this is what he's supposed to do. The slide of his mouth over soft skin is natural, the parting of a pretty ass beneath his hands is easy, and pressing his tongue flat and firm against Jinyoung's rim and dragging up all wet and slow—it feels like he could do it forever.

But he can't. At least, not if Jinyoung's impatient squirming and whimpering is anything to go by. Still, he savors it, teasing with light flicks before sinking into him again, spearing and curling into clenching heat. It's only when Jinyoung's hands find his hair and start to tug that he lets up, nipping at Jinyoung's cheek one last time before sitting back on his heels to grope around the sheets for the lube.

When he sinks two fingers inside Jinyoung, he thinks he might understand Jinyoung’s preference for everything so sloppy, so slick that it defies definition beyond wet heat. With arousal thudding through his veins and warmth squeezing down around his fingers, he can almost lose himself in it.

But then there's Jinyoung's voice—thick and sweet as honey even when it's strained from the mix of pleasure and pain, a demand woven into a melody humming at a frequency that makes Jaebeom feel like he's a breath away from shaking apart. Even without words, he compels Jaebeom, commands him.

Jaebeom drags himself up Jinyoung's body. Digs his teeth into Jinyoung's nape. Spears his fingers mercilessly deeper.

As if he's trying to draw that blinding, simmering _something_ right out of Jaebeom's veins, Jinyoung gasps out a harsh laugh. "Is this what you have to teach me, Alpha? Rutting and biting like a dog?"

Jaebeom's mind flashes white-hot and he snarls into Jinyoung's skin as he drives another finger in. The choked whimper he gets in return does little to sate his roaring temper. "You wanna act all big now? While I'm three fingers deep in you and you're whining like a bitch?"

“Wasn't I?" Jinyoung's gaze isn't any less potent thrown back over his shoulder while his cheek is pressed into the pillow.

"Weren't you what?" Jaebeom spits down on Jinyoung's rim and fucks it into him, watching his fingers gleam wetly with each deep stroke. It feels like turnabout, like some attempt at fair play—and still, Jaebeom feels like he's reaching without grasping, falling without end.

"Big?"

The lilting question makes Jaebeom's stomach drop. He's suddenly, achingly aware of the space between his thighs—still dripping with lube and come, raw and open and tender.

Jaebeom curls his fingers and tries to cling to the helpless noise Jinyoung makes. When that doesn't work, he pushes another finger in just to watch Jinyoung clutch at the pillow and hear his sounds cut off as his mouth trembles and silently works.

"You." Jaebeom ignores how his voice shakes—with anger, with indignation, with whatever the hell this is that Jinyoung ignites in him. His body gives so easily around him, tight but eager, all hot and wet as it sucks his fingers in. He wishes Jinyoung was as easy. He wishes that everything would mold to his touch, wishes that he could grapple with—with everything that keeps them here, tangled up in Jinyoung’s unmade bed and out of reach of the light in the corner that throws Jinyoung into shadow like something artful, like something Jaebeom shouldn't touch. It's as if the darkness only accentuates his lush curves, all golden warmth from his toned shoulders past the precious tuck of his waist down to where Jaebeom is splitting him open, making space for himself where he doesn't belong.

He crooks his fingers inside Jinyoung and watches his cock start twitch to life against the sheets again. A welcome, in some way. Permission. At least from someone.

"What's stopping you?" Jinyoung rasps, as if that question doesn't have a million answers. “Think you’ll come too fast?” Even with Jaebeom spearing him open, pinning him down, he reaches down and draws out more than Jaebeom knew he had to give.

And Jaebeom gives and gives and gives. He presses his weight down onto Jinyoung's with his legs on either side of his hips, pins Jinyoung's wrists to the mattress above them, slides his lubed cock into the wet squeeze of Jinyoung's hole until the thundering of his pulse in his ears almost drowns out the aborted gasps of his name falling from Jinyoung's lips.

Panting hot in Jinyoung's ear, he grits out, "Me? I think that's more your kind of thing, Jinyoungie."

Jinyoung bucks beneath him and there's more strength behind the movement than Jaebeom would've ever thought possible years ago, but he simply draws his hips back and fucks down into him. The smack of his hips against Jinyoung's ass is loud from the mess between them—sweat and lube and the come still dripping from Jaebeom's hole. Jaebeom thrusts again, chasing the sound, the slick claps of skin on skin, again and again. It's almost loud enough to drown out the thundering in his mind—not quite thoughts, not quite emotions, too formless and base to outrun.

It can't drown out Jinyoung, though.

He's always louder after he comes the first time. Jaebeom knows that he personally goes boneless after he comes (and he knows too well just how much Jinyoung likes toying with him in that ragdoll state, too), but Jinyoung—his movements are wild, more unrestrained than he ever lets himself be outside of bed. Shivers and twitches rack his body as he writhes, and Jaebeom pulls back so he can press more of his weight down onto Jinyoung's wrists to hold him in place. From here, Jaebeom can see each muscle in Jinyoung's arms and back flex as he squirms on his cock, thrown into sharp relief by the low light.

His voice goes higher as it gets more desperate, almost reminiscent of times when things weren’t so tangled, when they could still fit together. Jaebeom fucks deep into him like he’s trying to reach something, like he can crawl inside Jinyoung and find whatever it is in him that gives him this much power over Jaebeom and tear it out with his teeth.

Usually, Jaebeom takes pride in how he fucks. But Jinyoung strips even that anchor from him, sends him sailing straight into desperation that makes his movements jagged and rushed. There’s no grace in the way he’s pounding into Jinyoung now, nothing but the drive to be deeper, to fuck more of those sweet noises out of him, to knot and mark and feel every inch of him.

But Jinyoung is writhing under him, riding back onto his cock like he wants his knot inside as badly as Jaebeom does. Each thrust punches a broken whimper out of him as Jaebeom’s length spears deep into him and his knot kisses against his rim.

The hot clench of Jinyoung’s body, the desperate rolls of his hips, the slick slide of his back against Jaebeom’s front—all of it makes Jaebeom grit his teeth. The mounting pressure in his gut has been wound tight ever since—since before this round, and it only winches tighter as he fucks savagely down into Jinyoung.

He does his best not to think when he drives in deep until his knot is flush with Jinyoung’s stretched rim and then keeps going. He does his best not to pay attention to how Jinyoung's body jerks beneath his, not to breathe in the dizzying musk of _alpha,_ not to let Jinyoung's broken voice drive into some tender place in his ribcage.

But he can't _not_ hear it when Jinyoung whimpers, "_Jaebeom-ah,_" as his knot finally pushes into him with a thick, wet noise. His fingers scrabble against the sheets helplessly and Jaebeom—well, Jaebeom keeps not thinking as he slides his hand up from Jinyoung's wrist to grab at his hand instead. It gives him better leverage, he thinks as he laces their fingers together. Better control.

He _has_ control. He's the one with another alpha on his knot, he's the one pinning him down to the mattress, he's the pack Alpha.

It doesn't feel like he has control, though, when Jinyoung's fingers clutch tightly at his. It feels like he's spiraling, like Jinyoung's body is drawing him in and he has no choice but to fall. Jinyoung's scent crashes down over him in a fresh wave of arousal and he can't stop himself from trying to fuck deeper into Jinyoung. His knees slip against the sheets with desperation and his knot slides wetly inside of Jinyoung, pressing further.

If he hadn't been trying to think before, now he has no choice. It's blissful to reach this stage of mindlessness, where they aren't Jaebeom and Jinyoung, where there isn't a world of consequence beyond the bedroom door, where he can savor the taste of Jinyoung on his tongue in every possible way.

“Fuck, Jinyoungie,” he growls, mouth moving without his consent. “Gonna—gonna fill you up, gonna make you mine—”

He feels almost outside his body except for the way pleasure is buzzing through him—and then Jinyoung's voice rings out again and sends a spike of pleasure through Jaebeom that drags him back into himself. Before he knows it, he's coming inside Jinyoung, his come spilling into wet heat and pressed deep by his swelling knot. With the first jerk of his hips, he sinks his teeth back into Jinyoung's neck like a closed circuit, and it burns through every part of him.

Jaebeom pants against Jinyoung's skin as his orgasm fades and the tension seeps out of him. Slowly, everything that pleasure and instinct had blotted out starts to pluck at the edges of his consciousness. Jinyoung's body is still taut beneath him, his voice catching in his throat on every exhale. It hits Jaebeom like a kick in the gut—he must still be hard.

Part of him wants to brush it aside. Jinyoung's already come—hell, he's come _plenty_ of times, that's how knotting works—and their arrangement isn't meant to be tender and careful and balanced. It's a fight, and today they've both won—and both lost.

But another part of him can't ignore the way Jinyoung trembles when Jaebeom turns them onto their sides, spooning with his knot still buried inside. He can see the angry red ring his teeth left on Jinyoung's skin. Instinctively, he laps at it.

He thinks Jinyoung might taste different when his tongue is gentle instead of punishing—or maybe that's just his knot making him stupid. It isn't like he'd have anything to compare it to, after all.

Inexplicably, the urge to apologize wells up in him. He bites it back. What would he apologize for, anyway? For keeping within the boundaries of their agreement? For following their own rules? For the rest of the world being the way it is and making him the way he is?

For all that he’s meant to have control, he can’t remember the last time he felt it.

Jinyoung's leg curves back over Jaebeom's, and his hand tugs Jaebeom's over toward his front. His skin is damp with sweat and Jaebeom can feel the ridges of muscle tensing with each strained breath.

Jaebeom can taste the words on his tongue alongside Jinyoung's scent—_I'm sorry._

But if he lets those words fall, he doesn’t know what else will follow them. He’s already gotten too close to going too far today, and even with his face hidden in Jinyoung’s hair he feels exposed and shaken.

So he offers other words instead.

“Let hyung take care of this,” he whispers as he hand dips down to take hold of Jinyoung’s leaking cock. It’s just what a good alpha should do, after all. Once everyone knows their place, take care of the pack. Take care of Jinyoung.

He clings to what he knows—the feeling of knotting someone, his role as pack Alpha, the sweet shivering moan Jinyoung lets out that sounds so unthreatening. He wishes he could find the anger from before, almost wishes Jinyoung would talk back to him and give him some fuel to burn. As it is, he’s sputtering out, weary and wanting and hungry, and all that’s left within reach is a Jinyoung too worn down to give him something to fight.

It wears Jaebeom down too.

So he fills Jinyoung, touches him, scents him. He takes Jinyoung in every way he knows how, in every way he’s allowed, and tries to tell himself it’s enough.

It’s always been enough before.

Hasn’t it?

**Author's Note:**

> come talk to me on [twitter](http://twitter.com/mianderings) or [curious cat](http://curiouscat.me/mianderings)!


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